Ye King of Spaine Inn - NPC OOC Discussion

To~ Marechal Moncey, III Corps, Zaragosa.
5th February 1809

Sire,

We wish to advise that earlier reports of my withdrawal from this place were somewhat exaggerated! A small Spanish division of two brigades of second line troops comprising seven battalions and numbering about 4,000 men advanced upon Oropesa from the south this afternoon. They were handled extremely cautiously and there was little fighting other than some skirmishing by our voltigeur companies and some posturing by our cavalry.

The enemy probed our defences but withdrew after an hour.

We suffered three men wounded and one killed, all from the 1er Escadron, 2ème Régt. Chasseurs a Cheval (Provisiore). The enemy lost nine killed and twenty-six wounded. This against our small force of just 990 infantry and 400 cavalry. The Spanish are still to the south of us observing our position.

Oropesa holds out and the coast road remains cut.

I attach to this despatch some sketches by the regimental war artist.

Vive l'Empereur!

Your humble servant
Général de brigade Auguste-Francois-Marie de Colbert-Chabanais

First sighting of the Spanish as they march up the coast road

A Spanish officer observes us from the edge of some woods. His men cower behind him in the undergrowth

A column of the enemy comes out into the open and begins to move around our left

Our grizzled veterans defending one of Oropesa's buildings

The enemy left-flanking column moves closer. One battalion has formed square when our cavalry advanced

Our voltigeurs annoy the enemy as they cower back behind their trees

A tense moment as the two commanders parley

To ~Général de brigade Auguste-Francois-Marie de Colbert-Chabanais

A fine showing General! A series of special casks of victory wine have been dispatched from our personal stores to reward the fine performance of the soldiers of your command this day. Please offer the Spanish officers a flagon or two, their personal bravery of covering their soldiers advance should be recognized. There are too few honourable combats in this backward country.

~Marechal Moncey

Our readers will find elsewhere in our newspaper detailed accounts of the highly professional manner in which General Moore has extricated his half of the British army from the exposed position in which General Wellesley abandoned him in the front of the entire army of the Emperor of the French.

Needless to say, these events have stirred up a veritable political bees nest in London, with much debate over the suitability of Wellesley to retain the senior command in the Peninsular.

The Times can now report that, at a recent Whig salon, the following document was circulated, which our resourceful but anonymous society correspondent was able to memorise and to pass on to myself.

Letter bearing His Britannic Majesty's seal

Field HQ in the Sierra de las Batuecas, South of Ciudad Rodrigo
1st February 1809

To: His Excellency, Viscount Castlereagh
At: Horse Guards, London
Via: Oporto



Your Excellency,

I thank you for your latest, and for sharing my grave concern over the conduct of Lord Wellesley.

I re-iterate that, though I am charged with co-ordinating the movements of the Allied armies in the Peninsula, Sir Arthur bluntly refuses to report to me his plans or movements. Worse, he informs me he is in one place, when he is in an other, and tells me he is carrying out plan A, when in fact he has long since embarked on plan B. As evidence, I submit two documents which have already appeared widely in the Press.

You will observe from those documents that Sir Arthur assured me that he was in Rodrigo, when in fact he was nowhere near the place. Nay, also that he was marching to Valladolid, as I had ordered, in support of the valiant General Moore. I hear however that he has marched in precisely the opposite direction, and has just arrived in Madrid, many miles from the prospective scene of any fighting.

You will appreciate that it is a most difficult endeavour to undertake diplomatic engagements, and develop strategies, with the Spanish gentlemen, when the commander in chief is widely known to conduct himself in this manner, wholly without reference to HM Plenipotentiary. I cannot honourably give assurances to these gentlemen if I cannot guarantee the compliance of subordinates.  

Further, there is an all too lively Press here, and it is most difficult to prevent news of His Lordship's insubordination and dereliction of duty appearing daily in the broadsheets. Just today I have read stories of his leisure activities in the capital, while we anxiously await news of Sir John Moore's brave stand against Bonaparte himself at Valladolid. It would appear that Sir Arthur has recently been posturing in the salons by holding His Majesty's Plenipotentiary up to ridicule, in thinly disguised fashion. The Spanish ladies are admittedly handsome devils, but amusing them at their soirees will capture him neither frog nor fowl.

I do take your point that there has been difficulty in giving Moore a promotion which would give him seniority in this theatre over Wellesley, since he has not yet won a victory of the prestige of Vimiero, Seringapatam, or Assaye. However, Sir Arthur has surely now thoroughly and shamefully blotted his copy book by leaving Moore and the locals to confront the Grande Armee itself. Could he not be promoted back to Blighty and out of harms way, perhaps to something senior at the War Office where you can keep a close eye on him?

If the above cannot be accomplished, then I must earnestly entreat you to institute a Board of Enquiry into his conduct, as the situation cannot be permitted to continue without grave danger to His Majesty's interest.

I am copying this letter to the valiant General Moore and to our Hd/legation in Lisbon.

Your urgent action in this affair would be most gratefully appreciated by Your Humble Servant,


Hookham Frere

ps. Baird has enquired whether the navy can supply the Spaniards in Santander?

pps. Any news of the duckhouse budget? I shall now also need to build new cages for the creatures Moore has found on the Duero. One of them has the likeness of Lord Ranulph's famous godwit, no less!.

Extracts from the report sent by Gral. Caldagués to the Junta of the Kingdom of Valencia from the vicinity of Oropesa:

“…so we didn’t get any support from the guns of our navy as promised. It was a bad decision by the Junta of Valencia to leave our divisional artillery in the city.”
[...]
“The enemy was deployed in a strong fortified position, our men were eager to attack but our council of officers unanimously realized we didn’t have the means for success in such a difficult enterprise.”
[...]
“Like Julius Caesar at Gergovia, I deployed my division in order of combat around some woods southwest of Oropesa and offered battle to the French. They didn’t came either.”
“Our men’s morale is higher than ever, as the French didn’t dare to leave their entrenchments and feared to accept battle with our force out of town.”
[...]
“We are getting ready to launch operation Costa del Azahar as soon as…”

This reporter has now joined Moore's army in retreat from Valladolid, and, as an accredited and embedded war reporter, has had privileged access not only to official dispatches but also to the cages full of the marvellous winged wealth of Old Castile which Moore has been able to carry away from that city and preserve for twitcher posterity.

The Pigeon Post can thus report, in the form of the dispatch duly reprinted below, the real reason for Moore's rather odd march westwards across the rear of Von Reding's front, when a purely military consideration might have dictated a southward march instead:

To the Rt Hon Sir John Hookham Frere

"Sir,

Having a moment to compose, I wish to share with you a detail of the recent action in Valladolid. I was surprised by the arrival of Napoleon's forces and it is widely believed that we withdrew because we faced a superior enemy. However, this is not at all the case. In fact, had we held position, we could have destroyed Napoleon in detail.

The fact of the matter is that I was informed the night before any French arrived in our vicinity that an aviary existed in Zamora which was being maintained in secret, despite our orders to the contrary. Naturally, I could not permit such treachery to abide, so I gave immediate orders that we should advance on that place. It was then, purely by coincidence, that Napoleon should attack the morning of our advance against those who would secrete fowl in their aviaries without admitting the public.

I am of course, pleased to report our success in securing the aviary which is well supplied with birds of many feather and stripe. I have tasked the quartermaster to catalogue and classify these birds as best he can, although he is not a cultured friend of the fowl like we are. I trust your experts will be better able to perform this urgent task as soon as these wondrous creatures are safely transferred to your custody.

Finally, please observe that I am complying with your most recent martial directive and you may reasonably expect to find me where you desire me to be.

Your Servant,

Sir John Moore"

The reader will be thrilled that I can also present him this likeness of Lord Ranulphs famed godwit, never before found in Spain:



It is becoming clear that the clouds of war do have the proverbial silver lining, in that the deadly cacadores, voltiguers and what have you, in sneaking through the woods hoping to waylay the enemy, do also alarum and displace these more reticent denizens of the air, giving us twitchers a rare chance to glimpse them.

We must also rejoice that, among those dread warriors who presently march to and fro through our fields, are counted one or two finer spirits like Moore and Frere, who appreciate the good things in life, and are prepared to take decisive steps to secure and preserve them for the common weal.

More to come shortly no doubt, from the front lines of this most fascinating contest.

So, dear readers, here is little Carlotta again, now in this small town in Old Castille, drawn here perhaps by fate and perhaps by my uncontrollable curiosity to see the great Emperor Napoleon, Master of Europe, when he arrives here in pursuit of General Moore, having won the trial of strength at Valladolid.

In the meantime, I have found myself a little job to pass the time. I am of course covering for your regular correspondent Matt Adore. As you are aware, Matt received an unfortunate goring during the previous Fiesta, when he tried to draw a close up sketch of the bull while it was being goaded by the Toreadors. We all, of course, wish Matt a speedy recovery.

Bullfighting is suspended for a short while, to permit passage of the contending armies, so your little Carlotta has been helping out our war correspondent, by talking to the smartly dressed English officers as they pass.  

After this mode, I have had some success in obtaining information. I find that swishing one's petticoat and twirling one's parasol has a most salutary effect in loosening the male tongue. Indeed, one particularly handsome hussar was so distracted by yours truly, that he dropped a piece of paper on the ground without noticing. As soon as he had passed, I picked it up and took it to the local notario for translation.

Amazingly, it transpires that this scrap of paper may throw light upon the embarkation of Baird’s expeditionary corps, which is newly reported from Santander. Here is what it says:

"To the Rt Hon John Hookham Frere, at HQ

My Lord,

I am sending you what may be the most important and urgent dispatch of this campaign, if not our lives. This communication is so important that I am ordering a squadron of cavalry escort my most trusted messenger to the very pole of your tent or door of your abode. I trust that you will hold this message in the strictest confidence until you have carefully considered its intelligence and made a decision as to how it shall govern the continuation of the present campaign.

Tonight I dined with one of my more venerable Captains of artillery, Birdseye, a most interesting cove to be sure. This Captain held the like rank in His Majesty's Royal Navy in his younger days, before accepting a commission on land (due he says to seasickness).

During his tenure on the seven seas, however, this old salt had the opportunity to sail around the world. His frigate visited many of the world's oceans and he thereby observed first-hand a great number of exotic beasts still unknown to much of the world.

He told me for example of a great, black whale which can swim as fast as a bird can fly. Although known for its ferocity, he has a vision that this creature may someday be tamed and kept in a great pond, which he proposes to call an "aquarium". The Captain would like to teach this fish to perform tricks, much like a bear, to entertain visitors of wealth and breeding.

The Captain did make a sketch of this whale, that we might better comprehend it. I have included it with this dispatch. Personally, I am critical of this vision, as I think such a beast would do nothing more than devour its captors as the whale did Jonah...

The Captain recounted his sightings of other wondrous denizens of the deep. It seems there are whales with tusks much like a unicorn. He has seen mermaids (whom he called “man-tees”) off the coast of Florida, though they are reputedly quite rotund and sailors manage to "entwine" with them only with the greatest of difficulty.

But the Captain's greatest revelation, and the one which occasions such emergency, is that there exists a fowl unlike any which we have seen before. The "pin-gwenn" is a most curious fowl indeed. He reported that this bird is entirely flightless --except for when it enters the water, then it is graceful as the albatross in flight! --Except it is under water!

According to the captain, the elusive pin-gwenn lives ONLY in the Southern Continent where no man abides. He reports that the pin-gwenn makes its entire living upon the ice and frigid waters of the Southern Seas.

During my long military career, I have become all too accustomed to hearing tall tales from soldiers and sailors alike, so immediately accosted him with questions, asking why we should not hear of such a creature in the Bible and why it should not have secured passage upon the Ark?

He answered, with I admit perfect reason, that it was like the bounding beasts of the land called "Australia" and that there were many such creatures which walked the Earth, despite having no mention in The Good Book.

In any case, I have no reason to doubt the Captain's integrity, having observed him on many occasions to expose himself to considerable peril in order to get a good roundshot off at the French.

It has become apparent to me, based on the Captain's account, that we may need to alter the course of this campaign and make a primary mission of obtaining even just one of these fowl. Could you imagine the squeal in London, should we discover a mating pair!

The Captain plainly stated that if we could find a mating pair of these pin-gwenns, that they should cause more stir than the mating pairs of cannibals which they did capture on his voyages through the Pacific Seas.

I humbly require your consideration of this intelligence and your advice as to whether I should immediately strike south? I am willing to volunteer personally for this mission, and if necessary in the ranks, should His Majesty call upon me to do so.

I think I can cross Gibraltar and though it will be a difficult campaign, traverse the wilds of Africa until arriving at the Southern Sea.

Once there, I will call for volunteers, for I am assured the passage is most perilous, to sail South and obtain one, or a pair of these birds for our zoological gardens.

I await your reply with eagerness and no little excitement.

Your humble servant,

Sir John Moore"

Dear reader, how about that for a real scoop, though as journalist I am but an amateur! Next time I hope to bring you news from the French camp! Au revoir!
Carlotta
XXX

In the public interest, I print extracts from a letter received from my friend Lord Byron, who has joined Mr. Hookham Frere at his Cintra villa during the latter's current winter break from his military duties (editorial comment page 7).

"Frere gets up at two. I get up, quite contrary to my usual custom … at 12. After breakfast we sit talking till six. From six to eight we gallop through the pine forest which divides Sintra from the sea; we then come home and dine, and sit up gossiping till six in the morning. I don’t suppose this will kill me in a week or fortnight, but I shall not try it longer.

Frere’s establishment consists, besides servants, of ten horses, eight enormous dogs, three monkeys, five cats, an eagle, a crow, and a falcon; and all these, except the horses, walk about the house, which every now and then resounds with their unarbitrated quarrels, as if they were the masters of it… .

[P.S.] I find that my enumeration of the animals in this Circean Palace was defective … . I have just met on the grand staircase five peacocks, two guinea hens, and an Egyptian crane. I wonder who all these animals were before they were changed into these shapes."

Childe John basked him in the noontide sun,
  Disporting there like any other fly,
  Nor deemed before his little day was done
  One blast might chill him into misery.
  But long ere scarce a third of his passed by,
  Worse than adversity the Childe befell;
  He felt the fullness of satiety:
  Then loathed he in his native land to dwell,
Which seemed to him more lone than eremite's sad cell.

  For he through Sin's long labyrinth had run,
  Nor made atonement when he did amiss,
  Had sighed to many, though he loved but one,
  And that loved one, alas, could ne'er be his.
  Ah, happy she! to 'scape from him whose kiss
  Had been pollution unto aught so chaste;
  Who soon had left her charms for vulgar bliss,
  And spoiled her goodly lands to gild his waste,
Nor calm domestic peace had ever deigned to taste.

  And now Childe John was sore sick at heart,
  And from his fellow bacchanals would flee;
  'Tis said, at times the sullen tear would start,
  But pride congealed the drop within his eye:
  Apart he stalked in joyless reverie,
  And from his native land resolved to go,
  And visit scorching climes beyond the sea;
  With pleasure drugged, he longed for woe,
And e'en for change of scene would seek the shades below.

With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go
  Athwart the foaming brine;
Nor care what land thou bear'st me to,
  So not again to mine.
Welcome, welcome, ye dark blue waves!
  And when you fail my sight,
Welcome, ye deserts, and ye caves!
  My Native Land—Good Night!

  On, on the vessel flies, the land is gone,
  the winds are rude in Biscay's sleepless bay.
  Four days are sped, but with the fifth, anon,
  New shores descried make every bosom gay;
  And Cintra's peacocks greet them on their way,
  And Tagus dashing onward to the deep,
  His fabled golden tribute bent to pay;
  And soon on board the Lusian pilots leap,
And steer 'twixt fertile shores where yet few rustics reap.

  Oh! tis a goodly sight to see
  What Heaven hath done for this delicious land!
  What fruits of fragrance blush on every tree!
  What goodly prospects o'er the hills expand!
  But man would mar them with an impious hand:
  And when the Almighty lifts his scourge
  'Gainst those who transgress his high command,
  With treble vengeance will his hot shafts urge
Gaul's locust host, and earth from fellest foemen purge.

  What beauties doth Lisboa unfold!
  Her image floating on that noble tide,
  Which poets vainly pave with sands of gold,
  But now whereon a thousand keels did ride
  Of mighty strength, since Albion was allied,
  And to the Lusians did aid afford
  A nation swoll'n with ignorance and pride,
  Who lick, yet loathe, the hand that waves the sword.
To save them from the wrath of Gaul's unsparing lord.

John Hookham Frere (with a trifle assistance from my houseguest, Lord Byron)

No letup in our Peninsula drama, dear readers, as the Emperor Napoleon now narrowly escapes the dagger of a female assassin.
The patriot, a raven haired temptress, struck while dining at the quaint Taverna Rustica, close by the Imperial camp near Aranda. It appears she had been observed in the Emperor’s tent on several occasions during the preceding nights, and had dined with him regularly in the Taverna.
I have obtained an account of the dramatic events first hand from a waiter, who for reasons of personal safety would give his identity only as ‘Manuel from Barcelona’. On the night in question, the buxom beauty was overheard to entreat the Emperor, in broken French, not to go to the Danube, or at least not by way of France and his wife. It appears that, as the night wore on, and the wine flowed, she became more tired and emotional, and, occupying the Imperial lap, obsequiously begged the Emperor to stay, offering him the most delicious carnal pleasures should he do so.
Manuel says he had to stare carefully at the floor throughout these proceedings, but could not depart the table since the Emperor has been known to have inattentive waiting staff shot. According to his account, the sultry siren persisted with her entreaties right up to the time of the Emperor’s habitual bedtime. She wailed loudly as he rose from the table, but was met with the stout response “Not tonight, Carlotta”.
Clearly not willing to take ‘non’ for an answer, the lady appears immediately to have pulled a stiletto from her stocking top and attempted to plunge it into the Imperial person. Manuel says that he deftly blocked the blow with a paella dish he had just removed from the table, and that the lady was then disarmed by Boney’s bodyguard, and taken into custody.
The Bulletin has established that the would be assassin is none other than our esteemed journalist colleague from the Zamora Toreador, Miss Carlotta Martinez (age 23). Romantically linked previously both to General San Juan and to Senor Hookham Frere, there is some suspicion that she may have been acting for Frere’s spymasters in Lisbon. Indeed, she had on many previous occasions expressed her determination to secure an interview with the Emperor before he is forced to leave the Peninsula to confront his enemies elsewhere in Europe. Miss Martinez remains under investigation in the Emperor’s camp, and may presumably expect the severest of penalties, though there is no indication yet of what her fate may be.
Manuel has been awarded the Legion d’Honneur with bar, the Emperor promising to set him up with his own tapas bar in Catalonia once that region has been cleared of the miquelets.

Letter between two Spanish officers leaked to the Clairon de Bayonne newspaper:


"To His Excellency Capitan-General Cuesta, Army of Galicia.
11th Mch.


My General

I beg your forgiveness for such a lowly officer as myself writing to such an esteemed person as Your Honour directly.

I was perturbed in the forenoon of the 10th March to have my town approached by a body of Spanish cavalry and infantry in a most hostile and aggressive manner and was treated at first as though I and my men were an enemy! It took some efforts on my part and prominent display of my battalion's flags to convince the Spanish soldiers not to attack us and butcher us on the spot!

My battalion is the 2nd battalion of Marines and has been stationed here since the end of January having been sent from Cadiz on orders of the Central Junta. Regrettably my marines wear blue uniforms with red facings and plumes to our hats. This perhaps added to the confusion.

Your officers questioned me on the whereabouts of the French cavalry they had been told were here and I answered them that none had ever been in the town. Your officers were incredulous at this simple news and I fear they at first considered me as either a liar or a spy! I invited them to speak with the mayor and the town doctor before they were assured again by these gentlemen that I did indeed speak truthfully.

I commend your men on their aggressive spirit and devotion to duty however might I respectfully suggest they send a patrol to a place to find out who garrisons it before attempting an attack!

I remain,

Yours humbly and with much respect

Mayor Fernando Montiel
2˚ Batallón de Marianos
Garrison of Zamora"


===========================


Editorial comment by the newspaper:

"Not content with attacking their own men, these Spanish have no idea where our troops are! Their officers show no honour by then accusing each other of incompetence. Such is the rabble our brave armies fight!"

Effective immediately this 6th day of March 1809 upon the bloody battlefield of Somosierra the Polish Light Horse Regiment of the Imperial Guard is hereby to join the ranks of the Old Guard. The entire guard will present arms to these valiant Poles. Such men deserve a homeland to call their own.

Lieutenant Niegolewski, of my escort squadron, has earned my personal own Legion of Honor. Hopefully this exemplary solder of France, and son of Poland, lives a long and happy life and recovers from the wounds he has most honorably received.

To the People of Spain

"I have declared, in a proclamation of the 2nd of June, that I wished to be the regenerator of Spain. To the rights which the princes of the ancient dynasty have ceded to me, you have wished that I should add the right of conquest. That, however, shall not change my inclination to serve you. I wish to encourage everything that is noble in your own exertions. All that is opposed to your prosperity and your grandeur I wish to destroy. The shackles which have enslaved the people I have broken. I have given you a liberal constitution, and, in the place of an absolute monarchy, a monarchy mild and limited. It depends upon yourselves whether that constitution shall still be your law."

In the public interest, I here reprint, with no comment appearing necessary, yet further distressing evidence of an idiosyncratic management of the war, the document in question having been mislaid it seems by one of our couriers in an house of ill repute.

With gratitude to my journalistic colleague Carafo Madeira of the Oporto Oracle for first breaking the story in that city of our noble allies.

To: Sir John Hookham Frere, HM Plenipotentiary, at [censored]

Dear Sir John,

I am lying awake tonight, my thoughts drifting to the prospect of obtaining a mating-pair of the pin-guinn.

In my mind's eye, I have already laid in supplies for the crossing of the African continent, mapped the route, and entreated with Moors, the denizens of Timbuctu, and the slave coasts... I am as far as the interiors of Africa, and the peculiar customs of the natives who would as soon flay you alive and consume your flesh as use you for breeding stock. Once they appreciate the importance of my mission however, they will allow us to pass...

Now, upon the Horn, we must construct the sturdiest and safest enclosure for the pin-guinn pair. Perhaps a patch of grass and a shrubbery for shade upon the deck?

Boldly we cut into the waves, the sea rising to take us, but recoiling back at the sight of our English Resolve. Finally, we contend with the people of the southern continent, disperse them with grapeshot, and secure as a prize our precious specimens!

I am anxious to go.

In the meantime, I have posted my forces to cover [censored], with cavalry to patrol as far as [censored], to provide warning of the approach of those who would contend with us for the coveted pin-guinn.

I remain your servant,

Sir John Moore

This reporter has seen the following dispatch issued by Mr Frere  our esteemed ally from England, to some of his cavalry who were recently passing through the town.

"El Torre del Diablo, Ciudad Rodrigo, late March 1809

To Lt Col Samuel Hawker, 14th Light Dragoons

Dear Hawker,

Thank you for joining me for tea this afternoon.

I hope you will send me your purported orders from Genl Wellesley. Alas,  I have grounds to suspect said orders to be a forgery perpetrated by enemy spies, these being  omnipresent in these parts. Therefore, you will oblige me by ignoring that document, and on no account joining Wellesley.

The imminent peril of our cause instead compels me to entrust you with the following mission:

Part the first:
You will kindly take the 14th Light Dragoons and charge those windmills which you will observe standing  on the skyline overlooking this town, waving their arms in a most impudent and mocking fashion. These installations have naturally been constructed by enemy spies, whom you will find inside, apprehend and bring to me in the Tower for interrogation and chastisement.

Part the second:
You will then take your regiment to [censored]. From thence you will send me regular reports concerning the movement of the enemy and of our Spanish allies

Part the third:
Upon the arrival of General Paget in [censored], you will kindly join him, report to him on the above matters, and place yourself under his command.

You will please forward to me at once any remonstrances received from General Wellesley concerning your conduct in this matter.

Yours &c

J. Hookham Frere, Marqués del Torre Galliformes y Molenos; HM Plenipotentiary in the Peninsula"

I can verify that the charge was duly carried out as ordered, with Sir John himself riding with Hawker at the head of the regiment. Sir John had borrowed an antiquated jousting lance from the Tower of the citadel, where he resides, and is reported to have done great execution with it, wrecking at least one of the enemy windmills' sails, before chasing an enemy miller across the fields beating him across the backside with the lance.

The London Gazette has published a map purporting to shew those regions and cities of Spain that are under French and Allied control. This map is seen as rather controversial and has stirred up some critical comments at Horseguards.

In other news the reported advance of Wellesley's British army into Valladolid has caused a joyous reaction among high society in both Lisbon and London. Ladies are said to be carrying miniatures of the Irish general in their scent-purses or within the bosoms of their gowns and a mere mention of his dashing advance at soirees can bring about a mass swooning of the younger women present.

On the other hand government officials at Whitehall study the Gazette map and are worried by the apparently exposed forward position of the Valladolid events.

The London Gazette is to be commended. I think if they were to update this map every few months, it would do much to generate interest in the campaign, and also help to orient occasional battle participants.

Burlington H Grumble
Cartographic Correspondent, Salford Pigeon Fanciers Weekly

Not enough blue.

Or pigeons..........

Not enough blue.

This is an excerpt of a map of all Europe. The rest of it is completely blue apart from some green parts near Moscow and a small white section around Vienna.



There. That changes the perspective a bit.

A glance at the first map shows the strategic center of gravity of this war. Alicante in the SE of the peninsula.

To the Editor, London Gazette

Dear Sir,

I congratulate you on the excellent work of your cartographic department, which I intend issuing to all the military servants of HM in the Peninsula.

Would that I could obtain such precise positional reports from the supposedly dashing Lord Wellesley or the other Generals here present (or indeed ANY reports).

Might I suggest however that future editions of the map could profitably show the positions of enemy windmills, pigeon lofts, and turkey ranches? I am aware these might be considered small omissions in an otherwise fine work, but such features of the landscape are nevertheless of the first importance to HM commanders in the field.

Yours &c
J. Hookham Frere, Marques del Torre, Molinos y Galliformes; HM Plenipotentiary in the Peninsula - (somewhere in the Castillian theatre of war)

Ps. you are advised to ignore the comments of Mr Burlington Grumble, who has retreated to the wilderness of Manchester in direct consequence of disgracing himself in his Iberian posting.

Desmond Morris, on page 578 of his book THE WASHING OF THE SPEARS, writes of the arrival seventy years on in Natal of Sir Garnett Wolseley, a notorious stickler for discipline, sent to take over the Zulu War following the crass incompetence displayed by his predecessor at Isandhlwana:

“Wolseley reached [the southern column] on the 7th July. He greeted Colonel Crealock [the column commander] with the remark that Crealock might just as well have remained in England for all his column had contributed to the campaign to date.

Crealock might well have felt uncomfortable. Wolseley, though sartorially unconventional and the designer of his own uniforms, was a stickler also for neatness. Crealock however had been affecting a sombrero combined with an artistic puggaree and a peacock feather.

Crealock was also a finicky eater. Despite the critical shortage of transport and fodder which had plagued the Zulu campaigns, Sir Garnet discovered Crealock had driven along six milch cows to provide himself with dairy produce, and had requisitioned one of the critically scarce ox carts to convert into a mobile hen-house ……………………………”

Sir Garnett later had a lot of trouble with the resident Governor of Cape Colony, whose eccentric antics had originally provoked the war. The family name of said gentleman? – one Frere, Bartle Frere to be precise.

The celebrated genealogist Burlington Grumble Jr claims to have traced the descent of both Bartle and Crealock to the notorious liaison of Hookham Frere with his sometime artillery and espionage chief, and later housekeeper at Sintra, Carlotta Martinez.